I had forgotten what I was wearing. The young man at Chik-fil-A asked me if I thought "we" were going to win Sunday against Philadelphia. I started a "huh", then remembered I was wearing a Tony Romo jersey. "Oh," I laughed, "who knows. I'm only wearing this cause I lost a bet."  And I had. But the truth was it was a good day to be wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey.  

My husband will tell you that my favorite day of the year is the opening day of the NFL season. And my least, the day after Super Bowl. My friends never call on Sundays unless it's an emergency. And then, never while the Cowboys are playing. Some of this fall lifestyle is a love of football. But much of it is love of down time. A dip in stress before the holidays. Ordinary days. When nothing much is planned and even less is expected.

And when something unexpected does happen, you just might have to wear the Romo jersey.   

Last week, H1N1 blew through our family. My daughter contacted the virus at work and was diagnosed immediately. Veronica tested negative. She and her mom locked themselves away from us all for a week. It seemed like an eternity. We dropped off soup, supplies and "prizes" at their doorstep daily. My daughter's work space was disinfected. Veronica's doctor promised Tami flu if she exhibited symptoms. The countdown began to non-infectious, then healthy enought to resume normal activities. In the end, no one else caught the virus, not even Veronica. We felt grateful and lucky.

Lately, even in my small world, Swine Flu has prevented more meetings and activities than my ex-boss. It's in the news every day. And makes more visits to my e-mail in box than questions about President Obama's birth certificate. In spite of the disinfecting, my daughter's illness occurred weeks after the first case hit her work place. And 2 weeks after our (in Veronica's words) "stupid flu shots".  Stopping the spread of this virus seems paramount.

Though I'm certainly no expert, here's what I would post as a mom:

-If you're sick, stay home. If your child is sick, keep them home.

-wash your hands, constantly, and be aware of touching your hands to your face

-take care of yourself and your loved ones until they are well. Secondary infections are real and dangerous.

Get well soon, everyone.

Last week, my friend Scott rushed a hummingbird to Rogers Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. And I mean rushed. As quickly as he could make the drive from Carrollton to Hutchins. An injured hummer, the size of Scott's thumb, in the front seat with him. Today I called to check on the little bird and he was gone.

Released, healthy and back into the wild. Herbie, as he was named during the nightmarish bonding, fell victim to the household cat. My friends found the bird in the house on a bed, where he had been brought by the cat. 

When I spoke to Kathy Rogers, she told me this was not uncommon. In fact, she said, most hummer injuries this time of year are a result of their fighting for food. They hurt each other or fall (stunned) to the ground, where they become prey for something else. Sometimes in a scuffle, they will crash into a window or even fall victim to a spider web.

The weather seems to have the hummers as confused as the rest of us. The mild and wet weather that came early and stayed has affected the migration patterns of the hummers and other birds, Rogers said. The center released several hummingbirds earlier this week and has already received 5 more.

Will leaving your feeders up discourage the birds from their journey? Rogers says probably not. The percentage that may not leave is small, she said. And the competition for food now is fierce. Providing them with a food source is the most beneficial for the hummers in general.

The Rogers Wildlife Rehabilitation Center is a great resource for local hummer watches and backyard birders. They are staffed 7 days a week. You can call them at 972.225.4000 for a rescue situation or visit their website for more information- www.rogerswildlife.org

Rogers offered this advice to Hummingbird Rescuers: get to them quickly. A hummingbird's metabolism is so quick that even an hour without food can be critical.

The more things change the more they stay the same. Right? The same three-year-old who announed last week that she was a big kid and insisted we immediately remove her booster chair, then named the new pond fish. She used the toddler principle that when something is good it bears repeating. Like "No" when your parent is at wit's end. Or "poopoo" when you're in public. The replacements were christened Mr. Fluffy. All five of them. 

There were seven the week before. Two of them hurled themselves out of the pond, perhaps sensing the worse fate of living with a moniker like "Mr. Fluffy". Mr. was just the title of the day. No one was going to question gender here. And Fluffy? Who knows. None of the goldfish are fluffy or similar in any way but species and residence. Two are huge, but different colors. One is long, slender and eel-like. Two are the same color, but noticably different in size- even to Veronica. She has befriended them by standing at foot of the pond, holding bits of food over the water and calling to them. Over. And over...

There has been more change in the garden this week. The rain has all but ended the reign of the Sweet Autumn Clematis. The Turks Cap has powered out.  Two or three Gulf Fritillaries (down from 20 or 30 last month) hover over the remains of the Passion Vine. But change here is good. Soon it will be time to divide the perennials. Share Peonies with friends. And plant bulbs for spring. How bout you?

I wake to it every morning at about 7- the high-pitched clucking these tiny birds make when challenging their territory. This and the humming sound are heard over the water treatment. The Hummingbirds seem as confused by all the thunderstorms as the rest of DFW. I wonder  if the cloud cover inhibits their migration south. Or are they just eating as fast and as much as they can before taking off?

It is definitely unusual for us to have them this late in our backyard. And so many. We have three right now. Two males and a female. All Ruby Throats, though we had one Black Chin male last week.

Our first year in Frisco we had none, but I occasionally saw one or two in the summer at my neighbor's across the street. In the following years, after we planted Turk's Cap, Cigar Plant, Shrimp Plant and Cypress Vine, we started drawing them here, too. Usually the middle of June to August.

My parents, who were huge Hummingbird watchers, lived on the Gulf Coast and would have 100 or more birds at a time in their backyard. Keeping the feeders changed was the summer pastime. We have never been that lucky, but enjoy Hummingbird "season" just as much.

If you enjoy Hummingbirds, too, there are two events this month worth traveling to. The Rockport Hummingbird Festival, which includes speakers, guided bird tours and programs and the state's largest backyard tour, runs Friday through Sunday. For more information you can go to www.rockporthummingbird.com. In Lake Jackson, Hummingbird events take place every Saturday throughout September at the Gulf Coast Bird Observatory. Go to www.gcbo.org for more information.  This week in Frisco, however, it only takes a feeder and some binoculars for some pretty good watching of these colorful little birds. 

Adios. Good bye. Good riddance to possibly the worst summer ever. The intense heat worsened by the onset of hot flashes and crazy dreams.  The pond fish died without me knowing. I found them in the freezer one morning, while   looking for something to cook.

 The cat left. My 3-year-old grand daughter broke two arms. A broken tail bone and triple-digit afternoons kept us off the motorcycle. The ice maker stopped the day of our dinner party. And I broke two of my grandmother's plates  the same day.  

And then, this week it happened. We slept later. We found ourselves in the yard and garden during daylight hours. We drank our coffee in long, savoring sips outside, while listening to the faint sound of marching band rehearsals. Days were once again filled with possibilities.

Sometimes we get so caught up in the drudgery, we forget what's around the corner. Thank goodness nature remembers.

My grand daughter, Veronica, is 3 and a half. Her world is theater. Tantrums, tears and sulks of the terrible two's remain. Now they have a director. A few weeks ago she asked for a second glass of milk at dinner- telling us she needed it to be "big and strong". "And when I am," she went on, "I'm going to pick up Papa and swing him around in the air the way he does me. "And when I do, ...", she continued- for three minutes. Her confidence soared with every new sentence and facial expression from her audience. The possibilities of being "big" were enormous. And testament to how quickly her thinking and reasoning skills are developing.  Last night, we were out in the backyard. The cat, bored with our company, slipped into the garage through his cat door. Veronica chased after him, pushing her arm through the hole. "Hey," she said, "I wish I could go in this door." Before her mother even finished the sentence about how Veronica was too big, the sequence began. "Well," Veronica said matter-of-factly,"when I get really small like this (she used her thumb and finger to demonstrate), I'm going to go in that door." She would go in and out, she explained. She would jump from the door to the ground and back again. She would hide in our shoes if she was scared. And she would fly to the roof for vacation.
I thought all night about Veronica being "small". How quickly she had abandoned her previous goal of being "big" for the sheer possibility of a new adventure.

I thought of Greg Tepper's recent review of the "3/50 Project" (the350project.net), a grass roots movement to save the "Bricks and Mortar" of American retail. The concept is small. Pick 3 small businesses you would miss if they were gone tomorrow. Pay them a visit and find a way to spend $50 with them in a month. Dollars spent at home stay closer to home, so you're not only empowering independent operators, you're growing your community.

When you're three, being small is just the jumping off point for what's next. Many of us, older than three, have been feeling pretty small lately. We have plenty of reasons to feel lowly. Loss of jobs. Loss of retirement savings. Loss of so many daily activities that were once so natural and comforting.

But what if Veronica is right? What if the days of being "big" are gone? What if being "small" is the place to be now? Country Western legend Dolly Parton recently launched her own label because she couldn't find a record company to take a risk on her newest album. She told interviewers on The View that she might be older, but she knew she could still sing. She would "sell CDs out of the trunk of my car"  if she had to.

I'm headed to Manny's to do more pondering on the possibilities of being "small". If I take a coupon, I can have dinner out for $4.95. A small price to pay for such an adventure.